Dead on Arrival
by Asrailefay
Summary: Summary: What if Tara staked Bill instead of pushing him out of the truck after he attacked and drained Sookie? Who will come to save Sookie? Surely there's some vampire who has an interest in keeping our little telepath alive… a 2-part Story *** Disclaimer: I have no rights to the TV show True Blood by Alan Ball, or to any of the characters contained within.*** E/S all the way
1. Part 1

**A/N: Part 1...**

* * *

Tara Thornton thumbed at the stake in her hands, remembering the horrors she had experienced at the hands of Franklin Mott. No, she would never fucking trust another vampire – or leave herself unarmed; their capacity for evil far outweighed the good she had seen. Good she had only ever seem from Bill Compton, her best friend Sookie Stackhouse's boyfriend, who Sookie had risked life and limb to save from his sadistic maker.

Tara patted her hand not once but twice on the panel behind her, grateful that God had brought her friends to Mississippi – if not for them she imagined that she would be dead. She wasn't trying to gain the attention of Sookie and Bill, who were in the back so that Bill's bloodied body could be shielded from the noonday sun, but as a reminder to herself where her salvation had come from, a semi and reassuring thank you to God above.

Tara glanced over at Alcide Herveaux, their pseudo partner-in-crime, who had volunteered to take them all the way back to Bon Temps in the Herveaux and Son's moving van-like truck. She knew Alcide was sweet on Sookie. Shit, fucking blind men could see that Alcide wanted to take Sookie home and do nasty things to her. But Sookie was a one-man kinda woman and Tara was sorta hoping Alcide might want her shoulder to cry on after Sookie inevitably rejected him. Tara had no problem going after Sookie's scraps; Alcide was hot-blooded and just plain hot – and, to top it all off, he wasn't a vamp! Who cared that he was a werewolf? Werewolf, Smerewolf! She wondered if his sexy wolfy side caused him to howl during his climax; she shuddered at the thought.

Tara imagined all the ways she and Alcide might get closer, shaken from her lusty thoughts as the truck hit a speed bump going a bit too fast, knocking both front-seat passengers' heads against the ceiling.

"Sooks? You okay?" Tara yelled, cupping her hand against the metal panel behind her in hopes of helping her voice to transfer through.

Nothing, not even a rumble.

"Sooks!" She said, banging her hand open-palmed, causing a loud clanging.

Nada. Zilch.

"SOOKIE!" Throwing her fists into the wall.

Tara didn't need to wait to know that Sookie wasn't going to respond – Sookie would never ignore anyone, especially her friend Tara. Sookie was a good Southern girl, always thinking too much of others and not enough of herself. Suddenly, Tara was overcome by fear – and guilt – why had she considered Bill to be one of the good guys? What if he was just a bloodthirsty monster like the rest of those undead assholes? Shit! What if Sookie was dead?!

"ALCIDE, STOP!"

Alcide slammed his foot onto the brake causing the truck to fishtail ever so slightly as he veered the vehicle off of the dirt road onto the shoulder. Not waiting, Tara flung open the door and jumped from the vehicle, rushing towards the back to throw up the latch and rolling door. She almost retched at the scene in front of her.

Bill's bloodied body was on top of Sookie, fingers digging into the skin of her arms, writhing as he moaned into her neck; Sookie was convulsing, gasping for air, as blood pooled around her body.

Tara screamed bloody murder, her emotions an unhealthy mix of sheer terror and absolute fury, lunging at Bill without a single thought of her own safety in her mind, staking him viciously through the back. Bill exploded in mess of goo, covering both Tara and Sookie. Tara fell to the side as Bill disintegrated, and clutched Sookie to her chest, begging her to be okay.

It had all happened so quickly that Alcide had barely rounded the corner when he saw Tara deliver Bill Compton the final death. He felt both relief and heartbreak, briefly thinking Bill was no longer a romantic threat only to see Sookie's pale and limp form laying in a pool of blood as Tara rocked them both back and forth, crying and pleading with Sookie to keep breathing.

Alcide was in shock, spurred to action by Tara's frantic yelling.

"GET. US. TO. A. FUCKING. HOSPITAL." When Alcide didn't move as quickly as Tara wanted, she followed up her order with a "FUCKING NOW ALCIDE!" and gently rested Sookie onto the metal floor to roughly pull at the interior rope, closing the door with a loud BANG.

Alcide ran, jumping back into the driver's seat and tearing off down the road, paying no attention to the bumps or potholes, with one purpose in mind: save Sookie Stackhouse.

* * *

Eric Northman woke during his day rest, his eyes snapping open, unnerved by the feelings he was receiving from Sookie Stackhouse. She was a veritable roller coaster and he was strapped in for the ride – fear to happiness to relief, finally resting on sheer terror before the tie muted permanently. He mentally tapped at the string in his mind that he knew was hers to find it was tenuous and breaking.

He chastised himself for tricking Sookie into drinking some of his blood. He should've expected that the little troublemaker known as Sookie Stackhouse would cause him more pain than pleasure – why had he ever thought otherwise? Of course she was in danger; she was only ever in danger. He'd never met anyone so willing to walk into a lion's den, so blind to how fragile her human form was. She disregarded her safety the same way he disregarded other's feeling – absolutely and without exceptions.

But for her, he had made an exception. Her tears had moved him; they had… touched him in a way nothing ever had. Usually he reveled in other's misery – it signaled his victory – but with her? It had only served to wound a heart he had not realized he possessed. It had not mattered that he was not the cause of her tears – he had not taken Bill Compton – because he had spurred on the one who had. And in that he felt some modicum of regret, an unfamiliar and revolting fungus of a feeling growing within him if ever there was one. Gods, he hated it! Hated her for infecting him with it, and yet hate is what he told himself to shush his own fears that she was changing him, breaking him out of his cold, hard shell. A small human woman was defeating a 1000-year old Viking vampire! Reducing all his carefully crafted walls to dust!

She had bested him, and what was worse was that she did not see herself as the victor, had not lowered herself to take the spoils of war – him. Quite the opposite, she seemed to pay him no mind at all, as she plagued his every waking moment. When Bill went missing, Sookie came to ask him help – 6 fucking hours later. She had exhausted every other possible lead before deigning his dungeon with her presence. Of course, he had never wanted her to see his dark proclivities, but his lovely progeny enjoyed a good ribbing at his expense – Pam knew Sookie would be sickened by what she saw.

But that's not what Eric felt from her in that moment; he felt the tiniest bit of intrigue drowning in a sea of disappointment – he would never be what she wanted. He'd told himself, Pam, and even Sookie that his efforts to hunt down Compton were his duty as Sheriff of Louisiana's Area 5, but it wasn't the whole truth. In fact, it was a tiny miniscule speck of the truth that he used to fool his progeny – who had a hardline into his emotions, and was therefore his own personal bullshit meter. He had done it for Sookie – of course he had done it for Sookie! Like a pathetic little adolescent human boy, he wanted her to like him so he had been pulling her hair and bullying her. Helping her find Bill… was a different kind of tactic, mostly dusty from being the most underused of his manipulative tricks. He'd tried pushing Sookie away, which had neither quelled his emotions, nor sparked her interest. Perhaps, being… nice would help him to find her good graces.

Eric had even cleared a debt – quite a large one – with a mangy werewolf to ensure Sookie had protection as she traipsed around Mississippi hunting for her precious _Beehl_. A favor he came to regret – experiencing once more the blooming fungoid – when he gathered that his hired help, Alcide, had come down with a rather nasty case of Sookie-itis. She really was quite contagious, spreading feelings wherever she went. And worse yet, the fucking wolf had let Bill back into her life, bringing a ruthless King – Russell Edgington – to her. And in pure Sookie form, she had exposed her powers, trying to save the pathetic vampire who had just risked her life. And for what? Bill was leaving her!

Oh, and what had the little fireball of trouble done then? She'd begged Eric in front of the King to help her, to help Bill. How could she have the worst fucking timing in the world?! He had just found the man who had slaughtered his family, who had danced in their blood, and he was not going to let the chance to deliver the 3000-year old monster that had haunted his few vampiric dreams the death he had so rightly earned. Eric could not risk his opportunity to exact revenge by helping her, not with a King watching.

So what had he done instead?

Eric had treated her like sniveling human filth not worthy of his, or any other vampire's attention. And when she plead with him again – again! – giving him a second chance to prove she could trust him, and this time in private, what had he done? He'd spit all of it in her face, told her he was the monster she had seen before, and that she meant nothing to him – Nothing. To. Him. – with fangs drawn, ready to strike, to divest himself of her once and for all.

Eric could've almost cried along with her, as tears spilled down her face and her eyes widened in a fearful panic. It was a different emotion that tremored across their tie, one he had not expected – a teeny-tiny bit of disappointment choked out by terror and dread. He hated that for the first time ever he had scared her beyond belief, that she thought truly he meant to rip her to shreds. But he did not cry; instead he donned his impenetrable mask of apathy and detachment, abandoning her to deal with the King, on her own. As he walked away, he thought he saw heartbreak in her eyes, like he had finally shattered any chance he had of gaining her acceptance – lost her forever. To the wolf? To Bill? To whomever; all he knew was that she would never be his.

And now, if he was reading their tie correctly, she would be no one's.

He beat his fists on the lid of his coffin, not because he was confined, but because he was furious. Sookie was dying and there was nothing he could do to stop it, save staggering outside to burn to a crisp within a matter of minutes. He had failed her, yet again, and somehow during his day death. He didn't want to see it that way – blame himself for what he was sure was her own foolishness – but wanting something did not make it a reality, as he had proved time and time again in his pursuit of Sookie. He had never felt so impotent and weak in his entire existence. He roared out his frustrations, stymied only by the soft pulsing in his mind, as if someone was tapping in a rhythmic beat. Her heartbeat, he realized, this was her heartbeat – someone out there was trying to save her.

Eric succumbed once again to his rest, soothed by the gentle thrumming, believing that as long as her weak heart was still beating she was most certainly on the mend.

* * *

When Tara and Alcide arrived at the ER, Alcide whisked Sookie into the waiting room bridal style, yelling and demanding that she take priority over all others. Tara hated in that moment that her thoughts strayed to how hot Alcide was when he was acting like a badass. What was wrong with her? Her best fucking friend was dying for Christ sakes! But his anger coupled with the limp, blood-covered woman he was holding was enough to grab Sookie first place in the queue – a small respite during an otherwise fucked-up day.

A male nurse came rushing through the swinging doors pushing a gurney, asking Alcide to put her down. He growled like an animal and made a move to refuse – like he would rather she die hugged up against his chest than in some cold and sterile operating room. Tara's hand rested on his arm, and the expression on her face was enough to shake him from his possessive thoughts. He set Sookie down on the metal contraption and the medical staff wheeled her to the back so that they could begin their ministrations.

Both Tara and Alcide had attempted to follow, but they were stopped by open-faced palms against their chests, telling them that "this area is for medical personnel only."

The hospital staff had not allowed anyone in the room as they tried to restart her small and fragile heart with shock after shock from the defibrillator, rushing to shove tubes and needles into Sookie to push oxygen into her body as her heart resumed with a weak thump-thump. Once that obstacle was overcome, they sought to replace her blood loss, but were not finding success to be as easy as they had hoped. Nurses were running in and out, whispering with worried looks, carting vial after vial of blood, presumably to the lab. Every so often, from their well-worn path pacing in front of the double doors the led back to their injured friend, Alcide and Tara caught a glimpse of Sookie, as still as the dead; her coloring extremely pale.

Finally a doctor came out to deliver some news, and while Tara prayed for a miracle, one glance at the doctor's disheartened countenance told her that maybe this time God wasn't listening. Sookie was in a coma, unable to breathe on her own – a machine forcing the rise and fall of her chest – and, the worst new of all, there was nothing they could do; she had lost too much blood. When Tara screeched at the doctor, screaming in his face that people donated blood every damn day for situations like this fucking one, he dejectedly shared that people did, but they all had blood types – and Sookie did not; it could kill her just to try.

He patted Tara on the shoulder, as she stood in shock, softly telling her that she and her boyfriend should sit with Sookie and pay their final respects, call any other family members to join her in her final hours. Tara watched a tear slip down the doctor's cheek as he told her it wouldn't be much longer until Sookie passed, and was grateful, at least, that her friend had been blessed to be worked on by a man who felt as deeply as she had. Overhearing that they were finally allowed in the back, Alcide rushed to Sookie's side, clasping her hand in his, using his other to push her sticky hair from her face. She looked so small in the hospital bed, white as a ghost with a breathing tube down her throat, hooked up to multiple machines to monitor her last moments. The rhythmic beeping provided at least some relief that, as long as the obnoxious noise persisted, Sookie was still with them.

Tara slumped down in the hospital chair next to her friend, grabbing her other hand to try to provide some semblance of comfort. Never letting go of Sookie, Tara dialed Jason, but he didn't answer. She called over and over, but he still didn't answer the damn phone. Tara could not believe that he would be so fucking irresponsible – didn't he know that hundreds of missed calls meant some bad shit was going down? She left him a scathing message, telling him he'd regret it for the rest of his fucking life if he didn't call her back as soon as possible.

Tara made a couple more calls – Sam and Lafayette were on their way. She scooted the chair closer and rested her head on Sookie's arm and stomach, fighting the urge to break into full-on snotty sobbing mode. She didn't want something like that to possibly be the last thing Sookie heard.

"Girl, I'm so sorry. I knew he was a blood-sucking bastard. I shoulda known this woulda happened. I'm sorry Sooks that I didn't stake his ass the second ya got him into the van."

Alcide's eyes widened at Tara's words, but he said nothing – she had a long hard day. They both had.

* * *

When Eric rose at dusk, he smiled; Sookie's tie was producing the same soft pulse as it had earlier in the day. He wondered if it was normal for human hearts to beat so slowly, but he accepted that he was not used to humans at rest – his presence was known to cause a sudden torrent of fear and adrenaline. He was glad humans were scared of him; this whoosh-whoosh would barely push the blood to the surface, would force him to suck much harder than he preferred while eating his dinner.

Eric checked his phone – he had missed nothing; although he couldn't imagine a single person who would bother calling him to update him on Sookie's comings and goings. Still, the absence of panicked calls pacified his growling beast; she was not yet lost to the world and that was all that mattered – even if he was a bit irritated with her for waking him during the day. Even through her hate, she still had her claws in him, and he grimaced at himself in the mirror while fixing his hair; why couldn't he shake her?

"Find them!" He heard Russell screaming from the foyer, "Miss Pelt says Miss Stackhouse staked Lorena and absconded with our dear Mr. Compton. Guards, search the grounds! You bring them back to me in one piece or in several, but get them before they cross the border."

Eric was not surprised by this news; Sookie would've never left without Compton. He also figured that she had probably jumped Lorena during the day, at her weakest, which meant they were long gone, kicking up dust in the wind behind them. Good, that meant he could focus on the task at hand – and finally avenge his families' deaths. Eric smiled wickedly at Talbot, Russell's consort, who had already openly expressed a sexual interest in him – an interest Eric intended to exploit to his full advantage. He licked his lips and watched as Talbot shivered in anticipation; it was almost too easy.

Almost.

Eric wished he would've knocked on some damn wood, as the saying went; perhaps it would stopped the S.S. trouble storm from blowing back into his path. A guard burst unceremoniously through the door, "King Edgington! We have intel, from a hospital in Jackson." His words echoed through the great hall. Eric felt a weight drop to the bottom of his stomach – impossible. It became heavier as Russell swept into the room, dramatically twirling his long smoking jacket in a huff to hear what news there was to share.

Eric did not want to hear one word, but he stood there, and smiled, pretending to be eager at the King's boon and disinterested in the girl all at the same time. Vampires did not need hospitals; humans did. "Blood loss… coma… dying…" were the only words he heard, and he wondered how his acute ears had missed so much, instantly aware that perhaps he had not bothered to listen – for fear of what he might hear. Suddenly all his revenge plans were backburnered – he'd waited 1000 years; surely he could handle waiting a couple more measly days.

"Oh, well that's just too bad," Russell drawled out in his Mississippian accent, "And our dear Mr. Compton?"

"Presumed dead, sir. One of the Were nurses indicated that Stackhouse and her black friend came in covered in a goo smelling strongly of vampire." The guard responded in monotone, looking forward, and standing up as straight as he could.

"Could that have been from our Lorena? Perhaps he's simply gone to ground."

"Unlikely, sir. We think Stackhouse saved him, and he paid her in kind for killing his maker by attacking her. Our source said she had bites in her neck from a fanger."

"Hush now! Such disrespectful language!"

Russell said laughing a bit, while displaying his fangs menacingly. Russell was the epitome of Southern charm, but he also believed he deserved to be shown respect – as a King, but also as a vampire; his race was superior to them all.

"Sorry, sir. Would you like us to dispatch someone to the hospital to end the girl?"

"My now, wouldn't that just be cruel? She's dying anyways; let her have her last breaths in peace."

"Yes, sir."

The guard did an about-face and exited through the front door to patrol the grounds. Russell walked to Eric and hooked their arms together, pulling him into the dining room – a set table before them.

"Humans, such trouble aren't they?"

"I wouldn't know. I don't make a habit out of playing with my food," Eric retorted. Outwardly he looked as apathetic as always, but inside he was in shambles, tugging at the small tie to find it was, in fact, fading, crackling and breaking – how had that escaped his notice?

"But you and Miss Stackhouse seemed like you had been… _well_ - _acquainted_ with one another," Russell waggled his eyebrows suggestively, "She practically fell at your feet begging you to help her. Why would she bother if you hadn't been… _playing_ with her?"

Eric had no patience for the King's euphemisms. If Russell thought that he and Sookie had fucked, it should be said forthright and without preamble – none of this _playing_ and _well-acquainted_ bullshit. He knew Russell was no more Southern than he was, and it irked him to no end that the King played up a fake persona. Eric pretended to be many things, made of cold hard stone and empty inside, but he had always openly embraced his Viking heritage.

"I fucked her once; you know how they are – they get so attached."

Eric lied, popping his fangs out as if he was relishing the memory, but of course he wasn't. Why couldn't the hospital save Sookie? How could it be possible? What was she dying of? His mind could not stop rattling with questions and it made it nearly impossible to follow his conversation with the King – nearly, but not quite. He was nothing if not strategic, and right now he needed to move the pieces in such a way that he could walk out the door – immediately – without arousing suspicion.

"That they do… That they do… No matter! She's no one's problem anymore."

Eric flinched at Russell's words; he tried so hard not to, but they echoed his own earlier musings when Sookie's heart had stopped. The King took note of it, raising a single eyebrow – a significant gesture. It was the worst thing, for one vampire to show any tiny shred of emotion in front of another; it was like showing one's hand in a game of high-stakes poker. Thinking on his feet, Eric doubled over, slouching towards the wall to rest against it, as if for balance.

"My child, Pam," He choked out, "The Magister must be taking silver to her again." After fake-writhing in pain for a couple minutes more, he righted himself, apologizing profusely and bowing to the King. He hated to grovel, but what else could he do? Head down, he flicked a small drop of blood from the corner of his eye – Sookie was going to die while he was putting on airs for a vampire he wanted dead. The irony was not lost on him.

"No need to be sorry, my dear Mr. Northman. It is I who should offer my regrets. I had almost forgotten about your captured progeny. Whatever will we do to free her now that our dear Mr. Compton has met his final death?"

"Whatever indeed. Too bad there is no one to vouch that he met his final death," Eric said, realizing that he had forgotten about Pam; Compton's death would surely mean the death of his own progeny. Once again, he was going to lose everyone he cared about, and Russell was, once again, present to witness his pain. Inwardly he was livid, but outwardly, nothing.

"Why my dear, Mr. Northman, you've found your answer without realizing it!" Russell clapped his hands together, "There is a way around all this trouble! Grab Miss Stack…," and Eric, in that brief second, felt the weight in his stomach lift, only to drop again, "…house's _clothes_. Surely the stench of Mr. Compton is all over them, and it's not like she will be needing them."

The King had no use for Pam, so Eric understood that his concern was like his manners – all for show. A show he _needed_ to play into.

"This is why you are King, and I am merely a subject who serves your interests," Eric said, knowing that plan was bullshit at best, "Thank you for your insights and your concern for my progeny. She will swear fealty to you and Mississippi post-haste; we will spare no time relocating to your fine state once I have her back."

Eric thought of Sookie; the Magister could not deny the testimony of an unglamourable human. If he saved Sookie's life, she would owe him a debt, one he could cash in to save Pam – and if staving off Sookie's death helped to warm her to him, all the better. Two birds, one stone.

"Now, now, Mr. Northman, no need to rush your _reunion_. Don't be silly! Your _progeny_ has been through a traumatic event and surely she will require time for recovery. Take your time, enjoy your freedoms. One just never knows when they'll be _snatched away_ without warning."

There was a glint in Russell's eyes that Eric could not ignore – he had other purposes for his little speech, for letting Eric go, and Eric knew it. Russell hadn't made to 3000 years old without possessing a deep understanding of strategies and manipulations. Survival of "the fittest" when it came vampires always meant "the smartest" – at 1000 years old, Eric was similarly no fool. But at this moment, the Viking simply didn't care; from the slowing thump-thump in Sookie's weak tie, he knew there was no time to waste agonizing over ulterior motives or fucking riddles. There would be time later – as a vampire, all he had was time.

As Eric flew into the darkened sky, he heard the King shout from the ground, "Oh Mr. Northman! Do be a lamb and tell Miss Stackhouse that I said 'hello'! It's only polite!"

* * *

 **A/N: Don't forget to follow, favorite and review if you're interested in finding out what happens in part 2...**

 **Dedicated to Sluggysmom, who is my friend and possibly biggest fan :)**


	2. Part 2

Eric Northman would not allow himself to consider the King's words, even though they nagged at him and battled for dominance in his mind – few things had ever unnerved him in his thousand years, but the King's utterance was on the wildly short list. Something was whispering inside him that he was doing exactly what Russell Edgington wanted him to do – and he was going to pay dearly for it later. Eric pushed those thoughts away believing that if he entertained his curiosities, his fears, that he would find himself diverted, distracted from his course towards the hospital in Jackson where Sookie Stackhouse was struggling to keep her fragile human heart beating.

So what if Russell wanted Sookie alive? So did he.

Eric flew through the sky with unparalleled speed. When he arrived at the hospital, he decided – given the admission of Russell's guard that he had Were spies on the inside – to search window by window for Sookie's room.

To say he was shocked at the grim scene he found would be nothing short of an understatement.

No longer did she look like the vibrant and feisty woman who had captured his attentions. The one who had slapped him, the one who had told him she'd rather have cancer than let him grow on her, the one who had demanded the release of her friend. Instead, Eric noted that Sookie looked like death warmed over, a hollowed out shell of her formerly lively self. Her skin was sallow and had taken on a graying hue, large deep bags hung under her closed eyes, and her body twitched in rhythm with the beeping of a machine that appeared to be pumping air in and out of her lungs.

He was not sure what he had expected, but it certainly wasn't this.

The room held occupants in addition to its patient and Eric's vexations at their presence grew instantly and epically, almost to no end. While he had not wished for Sookie to be abandoned and alone in her last moments, he loathed the sight of Alcide Herveaux – the man he had hired to protect Sookie in Jackson – touching the woman he wanted for his own, holding her hand and petting her hair as if she belonged to him. Sookie was not Eric's – and he still imagined she never would be – but a pang of jealousy shot through him and he wondered, if Sookie was awake, how she would respond to the Were's attentions? Would she accept them or would she swat them away like annoying little gnats?

Eric hoped it would be the latter and not the former.

In truth, there were less people than Eric would have expected. As far as he was concerned, Sookie was a veritable ray of sunshine whose presence was a gift in people's lives, but it seemed that may have been an assertion only a few people would agree with, four to be exact. Eric noted that he didn't see her obnoxious brother, and he thought that was odd – not bothering to stifle the growl that erupted from his throat as he supposed that Sookie's devotion to her brother was decidedly not a two-way street.

At the noise, Herveaux's head snapped over to the window, and Eric knew he'd been heard, if not also seen. He was not sure why he had felt contented to hide in the shadows outside – if he was going to save Sookie, at some point he was going to have to go in the fucking room.

Alcide whispered softly, knowing Northman's ears would catch the nearly inaudible words, "Meet me outside." He wasn't eager to give a fanger access to the woman before him, but admittedly Northman was Sookie's only hope for survival. Alcide couldn't help but laugh, in his own head, at the irony of it all – Sookie had almost been killed by a vampire, but now without one, she had little chance of staying alive.

When Alcide dropped Sookie's hand, giving up his vigil at her side – a position he had made few moves from – Tara cast him a sideways glance and he could not bring himself to tell her the truth. Tara had been tortured at the hands of an insane vampire, and her experience had soured her towards the entire race – she wouldn't understand why he would even bother to take an audience with Eric Northman. In fact, he was pretty sure Tara would try to stake the vampire the second he sauntered into the room – an act that would guarantee her a quick and bloody death. Alcide didn't want that for her; he kind of liked the foul-mouthed woman – she had spunk and fire, two things Alcide had always found himself attracted to.

When he rose, Alcide noted that Sam Merlotte moved at an almost unnatural speed to claim the chair and hand that he had left empty. With her shifter boss at her side and Northman outside, Alcide could not help but notice that every man who loved Sookie Stackhouse was in attendance.

* * *

"Get rid of the others, and then open the window. I will not have an audience."

Eric Northman's command was delivered harshly through gritted teeth; he did not relish having to request access to the woman who consumed his every waking thought, who he had stalled his plans for a bloody and satisfying revenge to save – his irritations compounded by the fact he needed help from a mangy wolf.

"An audience for what?"

Alcide was not trying to be coy; he wanted Northman to be explicit in his intentions, to state plainly if he was there to save Sookie's life. Alcide was not going to let Northman torture the poor girl or hurt her; fucking vampires had taken too much from her already. Alcide had no qualms over losing his own life to defend her right to a peaceful ending – she deserved so much more, but he could at least help give her that.

"I am not here to say goodbye."

Alcide rolled his eyes; anyone could see that Northman was in love with Sookie, except for maybe the vampire himself. Why he refused to say outright that he was there to save her Alcide figured he'd never understand, but the admission was enough for him – even if he felt like it should have been more.

"Took you long enough to get here, Northman," Alcide grumbled, "But nobody's gonna just leave her 'cause I tell 'em to; they love her. You get that; don't you, Northman?"

Eric was growing more and more impatient by the second – bored of the onerous dialogue passing between them – focusing his attentions on the weak tha-thump that was Sookie's mechanical heartbeat coming through their weak tie, and not the wolf. Catching some, but not all of the wolf's words, he had ascertained his request was being refused, the wolf would not be ushering anyone away from Sookie's side. He finally decided to say fuck it, vamping past Herveaux through the hospital's front doors; he didn't care if someone at the hospital sent up a bat signal to out him to Russell – he had to get to Sookie.

When Eric reached the room, he threw the door open forcefully and glowered at each of the conscious occupants, dropping his sour expression only when his eyes rested on Sookie's stilled form. Seeing her up close caused his undead heart to clench, and he knew he needed to feed her his blood immediately – she had precious moments left.

"All. Of. You. Out."

He growled at them, noting that the black girl sprung up from her seated position and advanced on him instead of cowering. He believed she was the one who had delivered Compton's final death; she smelled faintly of his blood. The girl drew a bloodied stake out from her back pocket, screaming as she ran at him. He wanted to kill her, but he showed amazing restraint – that action would not endear Sookie to him – instead capturing her eyes to glamour her.

"You will leave. Now. And you will remember nothing of this moment."

Tara's forward momentum towards Eric stopped immediately; her screams died in her throat. Glassy-eyed, she tucked the stake back into her jeans and exited the room without even casting a second glance back towards her friend in the hospital bed.

"Lafayette, Merlotte; you will also go. OR. ELSE." Eric punctuated his threat with a fangy grin; his meaning behind "or else" lost on no one.

Sam groused and bitched quietly about having to leave, but rose from his seat, leaning down to plant a kiss on Sookie's head, whispering not so lowly that Eric could not hear him, "We won't go far, cher." Sam padded out of the room and Lafayette followed behind him, casting his eyes down and away from the vampire who had tortured him for days on end. He loved Sook, but his fear of Eric fucking Northman outweighed his desire to stay; he knew firsthand what atrocities that fucking vamp was capable of.

Alcide stood at the doorjamb to watch each of Sookie's friends leave one by one. When he tried to reenter the room, Eric didn't give him the chance, pushing him out unceremoniously – his hand to the wolf's chest. Eric slammed the door closed and locked it at vamp speed in an almost seamless and fluid motion. This was it; they were finally alone, and while Eric could hear the rumbling growls the wolf was eliciting on the other side, he paid it no mind – all he cared about was Sookie Stackhouse.

* * *

Sookie Stackhouse woke with a start, screaming bloody murder.

Her mind had been on overdrive since Bill's attack, showing her vivid images of her boyfriend brutalizing her, tearing his fangs into her flesh without mercy or restraint, divesting her body of its blood. In her dream, when she tried to fend Bill off, save herself, she found she was already too weak, unable to even lift her arms. She gasped out half-formed words, hoping to trigger Bill's humanity, but he responded by placing his hand over her mouth, stifling her ability to breathe. Death had felt close, unavoidable, and then the darkness hit.

It was the most terrifying dream she'd ever had, but a nagging feeling told her that it wasn't exactly a dream – that it was a memory.

Peering through blurry sleep-filled, and crusty eyes, Sookie didn't know what she had expected to see, but it certainly wasn't Eric Northman. But there he was tall, dark, and deadly, sitting on the edge of a bed that she realized was not her own – because it was a hospital bed – holding her hand as he petted at her hair.

After everything that had happened, she could not help but regard him with an air of suspicion and ire.

"Don't… touch… me… Don't… fucking… touch… me…"

Sookie croaked out, swatting his affections away, surprised at the pain that spiked through her body as the words escaped in a rasp from her throat. A deluge of tears began to spill from her eyes; she remembered Bill sucking greedily at her neck, but that didn't make the harsh truth that he had almost killed her any easier to accept. Her heart broke knowing that her first love, her first everything, had almost become her murderer - proof of his crime, the two seering puncture holes in her neck.

It never crossed her mind that Bill might try to kill her – that he could be capable of it – climbing into the back Alcide's truck as if Bill was just an innocent little kitten she had rescued from a shelter instead of blood-drinking vampire who had suffered a brutal attack at the hands of his insane maker. But she had gotten one thing right: vampires and kittens both have pointy sharp teeth – a dark thought that hadn't brought her any comfort as Bill plunged his fangs into her almost the very instant he sprung back into consciousness.

"Where's… Bill?"

Sookie feared the worst, and Eric delivered.

"Dead; the true death," Eric growled at her, "He deserved much worse than he got. He committed a heinous crime against you and he should have been made to suffer for it."

Sookie could've sworn that she saw the impassive vampire's countenance betray him, but at second glance, Eric looked disinterested, almost bored with the conversation passing between them.

Sookie said nothing in response, hoping the tall blonde vampire would leave to her thoughts and pain. But he did not, much to her chagrin.

"You were dying; I fed you my blood."

"Why?... What... do... you... want... from... me?"

The last time she had seen hide or hair of him he had blatantly told her that she meant nothing – Nothing. To. Him. – that she was on her own, leaving her in the clutches of Mississippi's very own Vampire King. Russell Edgington had scared the ever-loving hell out of her, and Eric had stood by and just watched the whole scene unfold.

Because she really did mean nothing to him.

In truth, Sookie had previously believed that Eric had at least an inklings worth of feelings for her, cared about her welfare, and even possibly her happiness. But the one time she had truly needed him, more than she had ever needed anyone in the world, he had denied her, not once but twice, threatening to rip her apart in a way that told her he meant it. She hated that his words had caused mutinous tears to release from her eyes, had belied the strength and fire she had always shown him. He had scared her, something despite all his posturings and loud growls he had never done; she realized then that she had allowed herself to entertain the silly school girl notion that the vampire had been pushing her away because he had feelings for her. But he didn't like her – he hated her.

If she had to admit it, she had thought there might be something blooming between them, love maybe. But she had been wrong – oh, so very wrong.

Eric ignored Sookie's question entirely, snicking his fangs down and pricking his finger, causing a small drop of blood to pool on the tip.

"Don't struggle."

Eric clipped out, removing the gauze about her neck to reach her wound, sighing as he uncovered the jagged hole torn into her flesh. She flinched at his touch, silent tears escaping in hordes down her cheeks. She hated that the feel of his skin on hers gave her a small modicum of comfort and relief.

"Stop… No. More. Blood."

Sookie choked out the words through her sobs as she tried to stamp down the panic swirling within her as his blood began to take root in her heart, softening her to him – no, she could not let herself fall prey to the thrall of a vampire who boasted of his inhumanity. As Sookie's anxieties surged, her telepathy quickly tumbled out of her control and several familiar voices rang through her head – she was surprised to hear several of her friends close by.

"My friends…"

Eric cut her off, finishing her sentence with his own words, grinning a fangy smile.

"… did not heal you. You owe _me_ the debt of gratitude."

Sookie sighed, turning her head towards the window, refusing to look anymore at the beautiful not-so-much-a-man before her, echoing her earlier question in a hushed whisper.

"What do you want from me?"

"Unglamourable little human, I want you to testify to the magister that Compton has met his end, help secure Pam's release."

Sookie's heart clenched in her chest; she was merely a means to an end. Why had it taken her so long to accept that was all she ever was to him? Oh yeah, because she had feelings for him – silly foolish Sookie, thinking the big bad vampire actually had feelings for her too. At least now she could finally be done with him, get over him.

"Fine, but after that, we're even."

* * *

After an almost unbearably miserable flight to Fangtasia, Sookie spoke her piece to the magister, encouraging him to wriggle around in her mind – test Eric's assertion she could not be glamoured. The veracity of her words proven beyond a doubt, tears slipped down her cheeks as she recounted the events leading to Bill's demise. The magister - satisfied that justice had been served - released Pam into Eric's care; his arms opened wide and reached around her, tucking her into his chest.

Pam spat out hatefully at Sookie, "Get the fuck out," sneering over Eric's shoulder, and Sookie did not hesitate to flee the scene, acrimony hanging in the air. Pam really knew how to show her appreciation – to Eric. As far she saw it, Sookie may as well be her maker's puppet, speaking his words because she owed him a favor – her pathetic bloodbaggy life. Eric had told Pam as much, in not so many words.

Ascending the stairs, Sookie banged against the pushbar of the emergency exit – igniting the klaxon of the alarm – and sprinted off into the night anxious to burn off the burst of energy Eric's blood had borne in her. She hated how his blood made her feel invigorated and renewed. She wanted to mourn the Bill-sized hole in her, and she wanted to experience her pain - she blamed Eric for making both seemingly impossible to do. Slumping to the ground as her legs gave out beneath her, Sookie puked up bile and the last remnants of her red hospital jello, and she couldn't help but laugh - it looked a lot like blood. If only getting the high-handed vampire jerk out of her system – out of her thoughts – was that easy, but it wasn't and her heart ached for him.

She laid there for a while panting her exhaustion – elbows and knees buried in the dirt, forehead resting on the ground – not giving one damn what might happen.

"Go away, Eric," She huffed out at the void she felt approaching her, not raising her head to confirm that it was, in fact, Eric.

It was not.

"Why, Miss Stackhouse, how fortuitous that I've run upon you! Although, I must admit I am quite surprised to find you here, alive and without your precious Viking. He seemed so... _attached_ to you, leaving me so abruptly to rush to your side. I was certain he'd ferry you away and hide you from the world, now that Mr. Compton has met his final death."

"Ha!" She snorted out derisively, "Nope, he's with Pam. At Fangtasia. Back that way," Waving her hand over her shoulder – without turning her head – in the direction of the garish vampire club. Of course, he had not come for her; she hated that she had wanted him to.

Sookie couldn't bring herself to be scared of the old-as-dirt Vampire King as he loomed over her hunched and vulnerable form – fate had fucked her six ways from Sunday in the last 24 hours, and Russell's presence was just icing on the cake. She was on her own; no one would come for her – Eric hated her, which upset her to no end, and Bill was dead. Panicking would just whoosh her blood out faster as the vampire rent her to pieces, so she didn't.

As Russell's fangs dropped in a threatening snick, she finally looked up, blinking slowly and deliberately as her breath hitched in her throat, resigning herself to a violent death. She was taken aback as he, instead of ripping her to shreds, offered her his hand palm-up like one does with a strange dog.

"Pesky things - fangs; seems sometimes, they act of their own volition," Russell said, flashing a fangy smile with a charmingly disarming glint in his eye.

What a crock of shit – she thought to herself, placing her hand into his, letting him raise her effortlessly to her feet. He kissed the back of her hand gently before releasing it, his fangs lightly grazing her skin – gross.

"Thank you." She mumbled out, giving him her smallest, weakest smile as she swept the dirt off her clothes in rough swats.

Sookie wasn't falling for his charade, but she was fresh out of options, jammed tightly between a rock and a hard place. She could play opossum, pretend to be just a dumb blonde human waitress – a part she was born to play, trained at for years – or she could roll over and just die already.

She was pretty sure she knew which one Pam would vote for.

"Walk with me for a spell, Miss Stackhouse; there are many things I wish to discuss with you."

Russell swept his smoking jacket out to twirl around on a dime, threading his arm through Sookie's. Grasping his hand over the back of hers – his nails sinking into her skin – he elicited a small yelp from Miss Stackhouse and his lips curled upwards in response. He enjoyed the timbre of her voice, imaging how melodic it would sound to him as she screamed out her pain. He urged her to lock step with him, forcing her to match his heavy strides during their hurried stroll down the unpaved, rocky road towards Hummingbird Lane.

* * *

"What the fuck, Pam? Why must you be such an insufferable brat!? You could have at least thanked her!" Eric growled out, the loud rumbling in his chest threatening to twist and turn into an all-out roar, as he disabled the annoying little device blaring its discontent over an opened door.

"Since when, Eric," She said popping the c, "do you give two shits about Sookie fucking Stackhouse!?" Her eyes widening as the truth settled within her, "You love her! Oh. My. Fucking. God. You didn't save her so she'd owe you a favor – to save me from the magister's torture, or my final death. You did it for you! What the fuck!? You're choosing a human? Over me!?"

"I do not love humans."

Eric déjà vued his words, channeling his conversation with Sophie Anne, the Vampire Queen of Louisiana, as she accused him of being in love with Bill's human, after he had sneered at Compton's silly devotions towards the girl.

Sophie-Anne had scoffed at him, and so did Pam.

"Wow, you must think I'm fifty shades of dumb. Hardline into your bullshit," She spit out touching her pointer her finger to her head, "Quit. Lying. To. Me."

"Russell Edgington, the Vampire King of Mississippi, and his wolves slaughtered my human family before I ever turned vampire."

Eric said, distracting his child – intentionally – from the direction the conversation had marched; Sookie Stackhouse was not up for discussion. She hated him, end of story; her heart and her tears still belonged to the dead vampire who had tried to kill her – her forgiveness of Bill unfathomable to him. But he believed it because he could feel her heartbreak, her sorrow. She was never to be his, and the infestation that had bloomed inside him would recede in time – he hoped.

"Holy fuck, Eric! How did you find out?"

"Talbot, the King's consort, showed me Russell's trophy collection, souvenirs he has collected over the last several millennia. My father's chieftain crown was mounted proudly among the many baubles, on display. _He_ is the monster who stole my family from me, and I intend to have my bloody revenge."

"Eric," Pam said in a worried tone, truly frightened for her maker, "He is over 3000 years old, and insane!"

"I. Do. Not," He snarled out, his fangs popping out at his ire, "need a reminder of things I know!"

"I can't lose you," Pam let a single bloody tear slip down her alabaster cheek and Eric caught it with his thumb, brushing it away from her skin.

"You know I like you better when you're cold and heartless."

"I know... It's the bleeds," She lied, "The magister kept me awake for days," She truthed.

"Do not fret, Pam. I have a plan."

* * *

"Do not attempt to dance with me, Miss Stackhouse! Invite me in!"

Russell Edgington held Sookie by her arm, suspending her above her wooden porch with her back against her front door as she thrashed and tried to yank herself free. Her cries were blood-curdling and Russell loved them; they were just as satisfying as he had imagined they would be.

"Please! Come in, Mr. Edgington!" She screamed, unable to deny her Southern upbringing despite the agony radiating through her body. She did not want to let him in, but it seemed many of her choices were no longer her own.

"Thank you, Miss Stackhouse," Russell said in his Mississippian accent, as he wrenched her to his other side, opening the door and vamping them both into the foyer, "A good hostess always offers her guest a drink," and he plunged his fangs into her neck, drinking her sweet-smelling blood slowly... harrowingly.

Sookie wailed as Russell struck her in the same spot Bill had, feeling pain explode inside her – squeezing her eyes shut as a flood of tears spilled down her face.

"Oh, Miss Stackhouse," He said as he retracted his fangs, licking her wound and then her face, "You taste delectable – like sunshine and sugar – but as much as I would love to tear you apart and bathe in your blood, I regret we must wait for your Viking. This is a show we simply cannot let him miss."

He walked them into her living room, still holding her above the ground by her arm.

"I am sure he has not told you, that you do not know of his connection to me," Russell paused, angered that she made no moves to respond her affirmation or disagreement to his statement.

He dug his nails into her arm, puncturing her flesh and drawing blood.

"Miss Stackhouse, it is rude to ignore your guest! Answer me!" Russell roared out.

At his exclamation, he threw her onto the couch, and she bounced off the back, rolling onto the floor. She grabbed at her arm to try to staunch the flow of blood from her lacerations, feeling the warm liquid drip over her fingers and onto the floor.

"Eric hasn't told me anything," She squeaked out, feeling diminutive and weak, small.

"Why, of course not! He is too proud, too young, thinking it is weakness to embrace his feelings... _I_ am the monster who divested him of his human family."

Russell crouched down to stare into his prey's face before continuing; she flinched and scuttled back but did not shirk his gaze – afraid, trembling.

"I murdered them – all of them – while he fucked some servant girl only yards away, ignorant to the carnage I was inflicting on his family, caught up in his own pleasure. I spared him so he could suffer their pains, let his own selfishness consume him – imagine my glee when I heard he was turned vampire! My elation compounded when he sauntered into my home thinking I would not recognize the face of the one who glowered and yelled at me as I stalked away. Such a fool! Your death will be my greatest victory against him. Surely, I will have stolen everything he loves from him."

"Not likely," Sookie quipped back, "I mean nothing to him!" Sorrow crushing through her.

* * *

Eric Northman arrived at Sookie's house after a hasty flight spurred on by the turmoil and pain beckoning him through their bond.

He heard her utterance – that she meant nothing to him – and felt her anguish; it made his undead heart clench. How could she think such a thing? She had always held dominion over his heart, his mind – ever since she had walked into Fangtasia wearing the red and white sundress that kissed all her curves. Even though he did not like it, he had to admit if there was such a thing as love, he most certainly felt it for Sookie Stackhouse.

Eric heard Russell burst into laughter at Sookie's words, calling her foolish and naïve. He crept around the side of the house to one of the living room windows covered by polyester drapes – shielding him from view – remembering that Sookie had granted him access to her abode the night he had killed one of Russell's wolves come to snatch her away. Eric prayed to his Gods that she had not rescinded his invitation as he crashed through the window at vamp speed – glad to see she had not – charging at Russell, his sword unsheathed.

Russell's countenance betrayed his stoicism, his shock registering in his features for a millisecond before he ripped Miss Stackhouse from the floor – molding her back into his front, one arm snaked around her waist – cursing at her lowly. She had distracted him from listening for the Viking's approach.

Eric halted his attack, inches from striking Sookie, who was effectively the Vampire King's human shield.

"You took long enough, Northman... considering she is your woman." Russell spewed hatefully at him, not believing her earlier protestations, and Eric thought of the wolf – he had said something similar.

"Let. Her. Go."

"I think... Not.'' Russell said, once again tearing his fangs into Sookie's flesh, savoring the feast that was her blood. Her hands crackled with power, waning quickly as her body weakened from attack; the light snuffed out before it could be unleashed.

"Jag är ledsen, älskling."

Eric whispered as he launched himself towards them, seizing Sookie out from under Russell, tossing her out of the way – across the room. Her body dented the drywall, and she fell to the floor in a still heap as Eric swung his sword, lopping off the head of the Mississippi King, whose body burst into a pool of blood – his head landed in Sookie's foyer, and did the same.

His sword clattering to the ground, Eric vamped over to Sookie and gathered her in his arms.

* * *

"You came for me..." Sookie whispered out sleepy-eyed, finding herself curled up against Eric in what she assumed was her bed.

"Yes."

Eric was at a loss for words – surprised she had not recoiled from him – feeling her overwhelming relief and gratitude in their bond.

"Why?"

She said it quietly, wavering nervousness rife in her tone.

This is the moment, my reckoning, he thought; and while he wanted to rail against it – push her away; his first instinct demanding it be given credence and priority – he knew he did himself no favors by denying his affections for her. He wondered if all the tortures he had blamed her for had truly been delivered by his own hand.

"Because I love you, and if I do not kiss you this very moment, Sookie Stackhouse, that would be my greatest regret."

He said, seeking her approval – and finding it – before crashing his lips into hers for a passionate, needy kiss that melted away all his silly worries and fears; it was all there in the kiss – she loved him too.

"This is beginning," Eric purred, and Sookie shivered, remembering he had said the very same thing to her once upon a time in a dream.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you to Sluggysmom and Bttrflybelle who read several versions, always offering their praise and support, and Mrskroy who beta'd (most) of it for me except the last little bit. You guys are amazing!**

 **And thanks to everyone who read and favorited / followed / reviewed! Without readers, this fandom would die. Love you guys!**

 **Google Translate: "Jag är ledsen, älskling." = "I'm sorry, my love."**


	3. Epilogue

**A/N: Epilogue**

* * *

"Please just watch the movie with me! I promise you'll enjoy it."

Sookie Stackhouse pleaded with him, popping the DVD into the player and switching the TV over to the right input, hesitating to press the play button until he conceded. It wasn't the biggest screen, but it was big enough for her purpose. She hoped he would watch closely and spy the parallels between the two characters on-screen and their own love story.

"I do not like things meant to entertain human children."

Eric Northman grumbled through gritted teeth, steeling himself for an argument he expected to lose.

Things had been… easier than he imagined they would be as he embarked upon his new relationship with Sookie – their guards dropped and forgotten – but when she suggested a Disney movie, he tensed, wondering why it was so important to her, why she insisted vehemently that they spend precious night time outside of bed and on top of her couch staring at illustrations dancing about a screen. Pam mentioned once that cartoon characters tended to sing; he was not in the mood to suffer a musical. But it was Sookie, and he could not bring himself to deny her – although, he was not going to admit defeat without at least the pretense of a putting up a fight.

Sookie rolled her eyes, "Oh my gosh, Eric, it's just a movie – indulge me," She said sauntering over to him before pushing him back – knowing he let her – onto the couch and straddling his lap. "Don't you want to make me happy?" She purred, peppering his neck with kisses and nipping a little, earning herself a satisfyingly sexy growl as she attempted to tease him into submission.

"A trade maybe?" She said, lifting herself to catch his oceanic eyes, coquettish fire burning behind hers. "If you," A nibble of his ear lobe, "watch the movie," A kiss on his neck, "I will," Her tongue dancing along his collarbone, "owe you one." Punctuating her words with an impassioned bite in his chest.

Sookie drew blood and sucked hard, smiling her victory as another growl – this time much louder and more guttural – erupted from Eric's throat; his body sending rumbles into hers.

"Mmmmm… Lover, we will not last through the movie if you insist on such… tactics..."

Eric responded, nuzzling his face into her hair, inhaling her scent. He wanted to fuck her and bite her, and rub himself all over her – and he knew he could do all of those things if only he let her have this one thing. He smirked at his own victory; he never had the strength to deny her – she was his, and he was hers. They really made quite the easy pair – once they had both gotten over all the posturing.

"But I will acquiesce to your request. Hit play, Lover; I will watch the movie with you."

* * *

Eric hated to admit that he found himself intrigued by the story of a headstrong, beautiful woman who resisted the threats and charms of a seemingly harsh, emotionless beast who sought to make her his own. Both denied the feelings blooming within them; each anxious to divest himself of the other – and the weakness they felt – but inexplicably they gave in, and let love grow.

As the pivotal song rung out from the speakers of Sookie's small TV, Eric leaned forward – Sookie's arms snaked about his waist – eagerly digesting the words sung by a cartoon teapot, as the two main characters fell in love with one another, finally submitting to the emotions brewing and steeping between them.

" _… Barely even friends… Then somebody bends… Unexpectedly…_ "

The words struck a chord with him.

Eric had been the one to bend – admitting his love, to himself and to her, after he killed Russell Edgington, despite his fears that Sookie might reject him – and he knew it; Sookie did too, smiling as she hugged herself closer into his chest, nuzzling her cheek against the soft fabric of his shirt.

" _Just a little change… Small to say the least… Both a little scared… Neither one prepared…_ "

Again, Eric found himself surprised; it was as if the song had been written for them. He was glad she had insisted they watch this movie; it was a physical and visual manifestation of their own love story.

" _… Bittersweet and strange… Finding you can change… Learning you were wrong…_ "

Eric raised an eyebrow, peering down at Sookie who raised her head to meet his eyes, poking herself in the chest – indicating _she_ had been wrong to refuse him – chuckling inaudibly. He smiled and proceeded to mimic her gesture, planting his own forefinger into the area over his heart – he was not too proud to admit he had also been wrong.

Sookie's heart fluttered in response, and she gazed at him – lust burning in her eyes.

She crashed her lips into his, capturing them in a steamy kiss; their hands wandered eagerly over one another's bodies. The two lost interest in the tale, becoming too engrossed in the visceral and corporeal expression of their love to pay attention to the final scenes; Eric knew with certainty that the characters had ultimately ended up together – because destined lovers always do.

* * *

As the credits finished rolling – the musical sounds fading from the screen – Eric untangled himself from Sookie, laughing inwardly at the disheveled state of her hair. She swatted him on the arm, feeling his amusement in their blood bond while smoothing out the rat's nest on her head. Things had become… heated after Eric realized her purpose for picking the movie she had, intent to respond to her affectionate display with one of his own.

"The movie, that song, reminds me of us in a way – I wanted to share it with you."

Sookie whispered sweetly, staring deeply into Eric's eyes after climbing, once more, into his lap, throwing her arms about his neck.

"Then why didn't you sing along, Lover?"

Eric asked with a mischievous smile, knowing her answer; his mirth ringing out in the small space as she uttered her response after jumping to her feet.

"Are you kidding?! I couldn't carry a tune in a bucket with a lid on it," Sookie snorted, echoing words she had spoken in a daydream Eric had – even though she didn't know it, "But I've got skills you can't even dream of, cowboy," Wanton need dripping in her voice.

She launched herself into his arms, and Eric caught her, jumping up from their seated position to vamp the two of them upstairs to her room.

* * *

After several rounds of vigorous lovemaking, Eric tucked Sookie against his form, noting how perfectly she fit spooned against his body; her heat radiated into him, as her chest rose and fell – sleep evident in her evened breaths. He kissed the top of her head and allowed himself to slip into downtime, overwhelming happiness settling within his soul. He murmured once last utterance before succumbing to a rest not quite unlike sleep.

"Jag älskar dig, Sookie... skönhet till min fä."

* * *

 **A/N:** **Thank you for reading! And many thanks to jackie69 who asked for (and was promised) an epilogue, but especially Mrskroy who inspired me, sparking the whole idea and premise while we were discussing one of her wonderful stories.**

 ** **Lyrics in italics are from "Beauty and the Beast" written by lyricist Howard Ashman and composer Alan Menken for Walt Disney Pictures' 30th animated feature film _Beauty and the Beast_** **(1991) sung by Angela Lansbury. _NOT MINE._****

 **Google Translation: "Jag älskar dig, Sookie, min skönhet till min fä." = I love you, Sookie... the beauty to my beast.**


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